Night Time Thoughts
The sky is raining. Or so it seems. You see the sky opened up in my living room. I am in a puddle of water wondering how to plug up the clouds so they don't come in here again.
Then I see that the rain are my tears and I am just wishing for it to be anything other than me- to hide the truth of my sadness that is right in front of me- falling like rain on my window pane. The sad thing is today was beautiful. Sunny without a cloud in the sky.
I hate being sad on days like today. The wind felt good against my cheek and I was reminded that I am still here. The road was warm on my bare feet and I wonder why I have bouts of sadness on days like today when most of my days are so good.
I then wonder what it means to have sorrow stick to your ribs like cement so every step feels like you are anchoring yourself more and more to the earth. My shoulders droop and my body aches. I am sick. I have been sick. And it is hard to tell what is wrong with me.
But my body is begging me to find an answer. So when I am bedridden and I look out at that beautiful sky I am reminded that I am so very here. Inside with aching ribs with the air in my room smelling like sickness. I do not know how else to describe it other than that.
And then I wonder if on days like today why it is so much easier to write when sorrow is my companion? It makes me sadder still, and even more than that it terrifies me.
I do not want to thirst for dark things so my pen can flow like water in a stream. I wish I was just the current itself. A constant thrum of creativity- but this would make me some god. I am no god. I am struggling living life as a human as it is.
I kiss my pillow with my eyelids, I turn over look at my ceiling with the glow in the dark stars- I will be 30 in about a week- and still love the childish wonder in certain things. Glow in the dark stars is one of them. So I will take this as my trophy tonight as I try to sleep.
Sorrow left an impression but did not drown me.
Because I will open my eyes tomorrow and do the very thing it would never expect:
I will try. One foot in front of the other. I will move forward.
Civilization and morals
from erudite men
disinterested in art
with paradoxical tools
for societal control
and the demoralization
of the gods.
Age is merely a number
of a self-inflicted construct
designed to remind us
how fragile our existence is.
We think of time as transient
perceiving it in temporal duration
instead of realizing time as infinite
as are the vibrations
of our being.
The midnight sun
Lost your soul
With your head
The House of the Dead
Walking into the forest,
my goal is to embrace isolation
Disgusted by the rat-race
I’m leaving society’s congregation
Because of its intrusiveness
it’s difficult to remain private
I leave the city with no remorse
as Nature has become my surrogate
Deeper into the forest I push
continuing my search for seclusion
Getting away from society
with its unwanted obtrusion
Far from the filthy city
I live as a happy recluse
Along with disdain for people
I need no other excuse
Traveling further into the woods
yearning to live where it’s remote
People and society are the poison
While Mother Nature is the antidote
in the heavens
What helps to keep me sane?
Self-inflicting psychological pain
My words are sharp & curt
Created by hate, designed to hurt
Your discomfort causes a thrill
Too many voices beg me to kill
And among the dead I seek bliss
A faceless corpse and a bloody kiss
I’ve become humanity’s bane
Because society has gone insane!
Every step on this beach of volcanic sand,
Watching the crystal waves as they depart,
I watch as my mind has flashes of the past,
Smaller footsteps walking across the crisp soil and green grass,
I can still feel the summer breeze on my back,
The sound of sea foam gushes into my ears,
As I hold back my tears of sorrow
The rocks sit between the land and sea,
I feel like those rocks when it comes to my family,
One side always fighting, the other wanting peace,
If only our troubles could be carried away,
Like the salt sea on this light breeze,
It wasn't always this way but things changed,
Divorce, death, and deception ruined us,
So, I ran off
Now, I stand on this endless beach with white cliffs,
Thinking about the what if's,
Trying to find answers in the bluest part of the waves
I'm waiting for the return of yesterday.
Is madness a symptom of society?
Queries, answers, obligatory renunciations of a false faith endured by the few who question the reality and veracity of the existence of sanity. There are those who proclaim the answer to the question of madness. An incremental deterioration of the mind from the constant stress of fear and anxiety. Creating a state of perpetual mental uncertainty and seeking to withdraw from societal norms.
Madness is not a symptom, it’s a destination.
Pen to the Paper 19: The Announcement
“You ready, Nick?” I asked, smirking devilishly.
“No. No I am not.”
“Well, TOO BAD, SUCKAAAAHH! This is what you get for knocking me out and cracking my skull!”
I turned around, smiling as the whiz of a rope pulled Nick upwards. “Little does he know, I postponed the show to tomorrow night!”
I stepped off of my elevator and onto the stage. The stage that the platform was technically a part of, but who cares about technicalities? Grabbing the microphone, I said, “Ladies and gentleman! Thank you for waiting one more evening in order to hear the results! I know, I know. My entrance was lame. The doctors told me that I couldn’t perform any more stunts for a while. He doesn’t want me to risk any further injury or brain damage. Although, I don’t know if it is possible for my brain to become anymore damaged than it already is.
“What’s that? You want to know where Nick is?”
Slowly, Nick was lowered from the ceiling. “NOT. FUNNY!” he yelled, angrily shaking his fist, which caused him to spin around in circles.
“I’m sorry, dude,” I began laughing, “I can’t take you seriously when you’re hanging from the ceiling like that, spinning around… it’s hilarious!”
“I HAVE BEEN HANGING HERE FOR OVER TWENTY-FOUR HOURS, MAN! LET ME DOWN!”
“Nah, man. Chill. Why don’t we just hang out?”
“Oh, ha ha, Caleb. Very funny.”
I slapped Nick on the back, causing him to swing. “Y’know, things could be worse. I had this big plan to have an acrobat jump from the ceiling and land in your arms, but she wouldn’t sign the papers stating that I was not liable for any injuries… Which makes sense. So, Nick, would you like to start off the show?”
Nick swung past the microphone. “Welcome t… the Pape… A show wher… piece of… rates your…”
“Well, there’s no need to swear, Nick!”
“...said cra… WOULD YOU… PLEASE!?”
“Yeah, I’ll stop the swinging for ya.” I held my arm out and slapped him on the chest, causing him to spin uncontrollably and in unpredictable patterns. “Hold onto your hats, ladies and gents! He may kick you in the face. Some of you would probably enjoy that. To that I say, I’m the famous one! Not this nerd!”
Just then, Nick came barrelling towards me. He collided with me, sending me flying. I landed in a crumpled ball across the stage. After the impact, Nick slowly stopped swinging.
“Well, the doctor may not be too happy about that. But that was awesome! Knocked the breath out of me, sure, but that was great!”
Nick did his best to lean over towards the microphone. “Now who’s ready for the announcements!?”
The crowd stared, not knowing what to think. “Nick, bro. That’s my line. That’s my thing. This is a punishment. You don’t get to be a part of this.”
“Man! What the heck are you talking about? You literally almost gave me a heart attack. I ran faster than Usain Bolt! He holds the record for the fastest speed a human has ever run! I literally was visited by the Guiness Book of World Records last week!”
“Now, if Nick would just shut his mouth, we could move on…
“Coming in third place, we have—”
“GLD’s Lost in Uncreativity. Caleb loves GLD’s work, blah blah blah. Awesome to see them back for another Pen to the Paper, et cetera, etcetera.”
“If you are just going to be a jerk, Nick, I am going to pull your rope up another ten feet and drop you. You can make comments, but you don’t have to be a jerk.”
“I’m sorry, Caleb, you know how I get when I’m tired. And, well, I really just didn’t sleep much last night due to the whole dangling up above a stadium thing… Then there’s the fact that I am hungry… And I can’t feel my toes, either…”
“Oh, I’m sorry, man. You shoulda said something! I’ll take you out to dinner after the show.”
“And you can choose the restaurant!”
“Awesome! Okay, GLD’s post was great. It’s about writer’s block, and she does a good job capturing it in a unique way, as Iamagoofball said.”
“I know that I’m not mad at you, Nick, but, like, this is my thing.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“In second place, we have Huckleberry_Hoo’s post, Huckleberry’s Barefoot Jug Band. I just really enjoyed reading it.”
“Shimmy-shake, shimmy-shiny, shimmy-shake,” Nick said, barely able to contain his laughter as he squirmed in the ropes tightly wrapped around him.
“And in first we have—can I get a drum ro–”
“Zeethefoodie!” Nick blurted out, cutting me off.
“HEY! Dude. Take that back!”
“I can’t. Too late. I already said it. Now, go on, tell them the reason.”
Kicking the dirt in front of me, I said, “Because Write Without A Plan? I Always Do is great. And I really like your username.”
“Cheer up, buddy ol’ pal!” Nick said, smiling arrogantly. “There’s always next month!”
“I loved how they delved into how and why they create worlds in their head."
“As did I,” Nick said. “Using their creativity as an escape. It was a very good read. I loved it!
“Now who wants to hear some honorable mentions!?”
The crowd cheered. “DON’T CHEER FOR HIM!” I yelled. “NICK CAN’T HAVE MY SPOTLIGHT! IT’S MINE!”
“Well, someone’s a bit jealous. Fine, fine. Quit staring daggers at me. The show’s yours! Little brat. Did your mother teach you to act like that? Throwing a tantrum to get what you want… Shame on you!”
Just then, an acrobat descended down the rope and slapped duct tape to Nick’s face. Smiling, I said, “Well, well, well! How the tables have turned!” I laughed evilly. “She didn’t agree to do the stunt, but she said that she would climb down and duct tape your mouth! What’s that? I can’t hear you!
“Now, let’s get some honorable mentions. Uninterrupted by Nick.
“I loved your work, themiddlepages. That is not my chair. was great! I am sure most of us can relate to it in some way, but remembering the chair solely as your father’s chair and thinking that it could never be your chair… It was so well written. I loved it!
“That leads me to skinareng. You did not title your work, and you never finished it, but you left me hungry for more! I was sad to see it end without an ending.
“I had a few people post unfinished stories. Another story that had me hooked from the start was The Woman with the Red Hair by k_b_k. I wanted to continue reading that as well. I wanted to find out who this Mackenzie was. I wanted to know why Sandy was exploring the city, and where her explorations would lead her… If ever you continue the story, let me know! You have me hooked!
“Finally, but certainly not the last, Karoma’s What is the ideal life? was a very enjoyable read. As they wrote, I found myself trying to write what the ideal life for everyone would be. Then the ‘twist’ in the essay happened, and I realized that, yeah, they are right. There is no ideal life that fits all. I was gleaning from my ideal life and trying to conform it into something that would fit everyone. But even I, your infallible host, have things that I want in life that I know for a fact most people won’t want.
“Hey, Daisy, could you remove the duct tape from Nick’s mouth?”
The acrobat leapt onto the rope, landing on it upside down and holding on with her feet. She removed the duct tape from Nick’s face and climbed back up the rope, disappearing into the rafters.
“Do you have an honorable mention that you would like to include, Nick?”
“First, ouch. That hurt. Secondly, yes. Raybug63’s Writer’s Block stood out to me. I enjoyed it. She is very good with words, and paints the picture of a writer’s block really well. I would know. I have never written anything in my life.”
“Sure you have, Nick,” I chimed in. “You helped me write up the menu for the concession stands!
“Thank you for coming out tonight! And thank you for your patience!” I said with a bow. “I will see you guys next month! Nick, you better hope that April Fool’s isn’t a Sunday, because if it is, you’re going to be pranked so hard!”
Nick’s ropes fell off him. He fell five feet to the ground, landing on the platform next to me. Together, we waved as the crowd cheered.
“That was an odd one, Caleb. And, please, don’t suspend me midair for twenty-four hours again.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. It was funnier in my head than it probably truly was. Where do you want to eat?”
“Do you like sushi?”
“Never had it. But I will literally eat anything you put on my plate.”